


EULOGY

by car_yl



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:41:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28061835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/car_yl/pseuds/car_yl
Summary: It's been a year since the Battle. Harry's called on to speak publicly for a memorial.
Relationships: Harry Dresden/Karrin Murphy, Harry Dresden/Lara Raith
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	EULOGY

**Author's Note:**

> All belongs to Jim Butcher. I'm just borrowing to work out my angst.

I can’t believe it’s been a year! The plaza around the Bean has been repaved with flagstones bearing the names of the 1100 citizens who fought in my cadre. Sanya is going to attend the dedication of the memorial with me. Lara too. All of the 200 survivors have been invited to attend. Apparently more than half of them will be there. And I- I’m scheduled to deliver the ‘key note’ address. Marcone’s doing.

What was he thinking?! I’m not the guy who either wants or needs to be front and center unless magical thunder and fire are flying around. But as the guy who struck the last blow of the battle, the one who ‘boxed’ up the Titan, the guy who survived, people think they want to hear what I have to say.

So, here I am sitting on a dais on a very warm July day with the Bean at my back and a microphone that’s bound to short out before I finish speaking in front of me. There’s a light occasional breeze off the lake that lifts a strand of my just trimmed hair and drops it across my forehead. I’ve been forced, by Mab, to shed the duster in favor of a pale gray spider silk jacket. Gotta represent for the Winter Court and the White Court- er, my fiancé. I’ve got on a pale blue button down shirt open by two buttons. My pentacle and a bit of chest hair that just sprouted a gray hair this morning peeking out of the opening as a bead of sweat trickles down my neck. I don’t know if the sweat is caused by the heat or my nerves.

I feel naked and exposed. Even though the jacket has my wards and protections stitched into the lining it doesn’t have the comforting weight of the leather coat. It doesn’t cover as much of me. I don’t feel as protected. I feel like a huge target.

Some poor young tech intern is adjusting the mic stand to put the mic close enough to my mouth. I give a wry grin as he gives up trying to use the mics in front of the podium and starts adjusting one of the boom mics down toward my face. A glance down at Lara sitting in the front row shows only a placid exterior but Sanya is chuckling.

I wonder idly if Michael and family have found a place on the plaza. Maggie is sitting between Sanya and Lara with Mouse at her feet, looking up at me with both pride and trepidation on her face. It’s a big crowd for her to be in without a Carpenter in tow. I smile down at her and give her a thumbs up. I’m going to make her proud. I’m going to make Karrin proud.

The mic is ready, I take a sip of water from the bottle I’ve been handed. Swallow a lump in my throat and begin.  
__________________________________________________________________

“Thank you for that kind introduction Mr. Marcone.” I didn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of my tone, but I tried. ”Ladies and Gentlemen as you’ve just been told, my name is Harry Dresden. I’ve been asked to speak today because, well, I lived”. A few chuckles are heard from the gathered crowd. “I certainly wasn’t asked to speak today because I’m a particularly articulate or gifted orator. Most people would tell you I’m more of a wise ass.” Sanya grinned very widely at that. “No, I’m just the guy that got to strike the last blow against the Titan. But if not for the people whose names are now engraved beneath our feet on the plaza and others whose names we do not know, I wouldn’t have been able to do that. I didn’t even know who these people were before that night; nor did they know me. But that night they came to my banner because we had a common goal. … We were going to defend Chicago.” I rendered that last sentence with a little bit of force and was rewarded with a murmur of approval.

“As I said, I didn’t know most of these brave people. So, let me tell you about one I did know. I knew her very well. In fact, I loved her.” I swallowed convulsively, “Her name was K- Karrin Murphy,” I got the name out with only a bit of a rasp, “and she should have been somewhere safe and protected because she was just recovering from some serious injuries that night. But you see, she couldn’t do that because her calling, her purpose in life from before I ever knew her was to defend Chicago.” A ripple of voices ran through the crowd.

“Karrin was a recently retired cop. And yes, I say cop because that’s what she always called herself. So to h- heck with political correctness, okay?” Another crowd response of both laughter and approval probably because of the obvious auto-correct.

“I, like most of us who call Chicago home, am a transplant. I was drawn to this place, probably by magic. But Karrin was a Chicago native. Born and bred here from an Irish Catholic family with a tradition of service to the police force. Her brothers, her father and her grandfather were and are ‘in the job’.” And yes, I did the air quotes. “She graduated from the police academy before she was old enough to buy her own celebratory drinks. Though it had been her goal before that day, that’s when she began defending Chicago.”

“Over the next few years, as she did her time in uniform, she ended her first marriage and met a scrawny, apprentice PI on a bridge one dark Chicago night,” I hooked a thumb at my own chest. “She moved up in the department because she was smart, strong and deadly. Yeah, she was a deadshot with 5- count ‘em 5 CPD commendations to prove it. She was also a kickass martial artist. To me..” I had to clear my throat, “Well, I always saw her as an angel.” I paused briefly for effect. “Not the floating on a cloud, playing a harp kind but as the avenging, guardian kind with a sword and a shield. And yeah, she had a literal sword. Ever heard of Kendo?” I quirked a corner of my mouth in a wry grin and there was yet another noise of approval from the people gathered. “She had a literal shield too. It bore the letters CPD and with it she defended Chicago.”

“By the time she made Lieutenant, we were defending Chicago together as colleagues.”

“But defending Chicago can be a costly calling. She faced monsters both literal and metaphorical. She saw her friends and subordinates ripped literally limb from limb. She’d had to face down a monster with only her courage and her service revolver. She’d faced literal nightmares that haunted her for years. It cost her a second marriage. Yet, she still defended Chicago.”

“When she lost a day in the middle of an investigation into killings at a convention, it cost her rank. CPD demoted her, and still, she defended Chicago.”

“That’s when We began to get really close. She’d lost two marriages. I’d lost the woman I’d wanted to marry to enemies of Chicago and we’d helped each other survive those losses while we defended Chicago, together.”

“When my ex, an investigative reporter, came back to town and told me I had a daughter she’d never told me about and she’d been kidnapped by those same enemies, I had to fight jurisdictional issues and people who didn’t believe the child was mine. I was left with no official agency to aide me but, Karrin helped me get my daughter back. That cost her too. But she thought it was worth it because I was a citizen of Chicago and my daughter was in danger and getting her back was defending Chicago.”

“Then the man she loved was shot by a sniper. Yeah- that’s me. I can hardly believe to this day that she ever loved me, but she did.” I leaned down to grab the podium and shook my head. “She didn’t know if I was dead or alive for a long time because I was in a coma for months. Yet, still she defended Chicago.” I raised my eyes and looked out at the crowd.

“When CPD decided she needed to take early retirement due to undiagnosed PTSD she joined the Better Future Society. She hated some of the folks she had to work with there but it was the only place left where she could still defend Chicago.”

“When I finally recovered and was strong enough to return to work, she was my right hand, shield to my sword, my backup, my trusted lieutenant, and yes, the love of my life and together, we defended Chicago.”

“So, on **that** night, the night of the Battle. She couldn’t sit behind walls and stay safe. She had to defend Chicago and me. And it cost us both.” The last two words came out as almost a whisper. “It cost her her life. It cost me the love of my life, a piece of my heart and a piece of my very-“ I choked. I took another sip of the water bottle and swallowed the lump in my throat again, “.. a piece of my very soul.” I managed to say while grabbing the podium with both hands again. The mic was crackling ominously. I took a moments pause until I heard the crowd getting restless. I wiped at my face with one hand before I continued. Yes, there were a few tears.

“But we weren’t the only two to pay the price that night. Every name on this plaza paid the price. Over 900 paid with their lives and of the survivors- Well, I don’t know what price each one has paid individually but I know they’ve paid in blood and in pain. If you’re one of those survivors, will you stand?” I gave a moment for a response and over a hundred of my cadre stood to their feet. Some needed help because their injuries left them unable to do it independently. There was a round of applause. 

“My friends, and if you fought with me that night, you **are** my friend. I’m not gonna quote Henry the Fifth. Instead, I’m going to ask you a question. I think I know the answer but I want the rest of this gathering to hear it.” I paused again, “Would you do it again?” I asked. Those standing nodded or answered yes. The rest of the crowd applauded again.

“Yes, so would I. Why? Because Karrin would expect it of me; because if she could do it again, she would; even if she knew the price we’d both pay. So because I honor her and these others who paid the ultimate price. For her, for them, for you," I pointed and made a sweeping gesture toward the crowd. "I promise that the next time one of these big bads threatens the town, the home we all love; I’ll be here. **I** WILL defend Chicago. Will you?” I practically roared that last line and the crowd roared back in return. I turned from the mic to tumultuous applause.  
__________________________________________________________________

I left the dais and walked to my daughter. I picked her up and buried my face in her hair. I was stunned the mic hadn’t exploded in my face. I felt Lara’s hand on my forearm and Sanya’s hand on my shoulder and I felt the hole in my chest where Karrin had lived. It hurt but today it didn’t make me want to break. I felt- proud- of Karrin, of myself and what I’d said.

I _would_ honor her. I _would_ make her proud. I won’t let Lara or Mab or anyone else take what is left of my soul because it doesn’t belong to them. It belongs to me and to Karrin and to Maggie.

I lifted my head to look at Maggie’s face. She was smiling at me. “You did good Daddy.” She told me. I smiled back. 

“Thanks punkin.” And for a moment I wished Bob and Bonnie could have heard me, especially Bonnie.

I glanced at Lara and was surprised to see something like pride in her pale eyes. “Let’s take you home, Harry.” she said quietly. I just barely heard her over the still ringing applause. We made our way off the plaza as the next speaker stepped up to the mic.  
__________________________________________________________________

We were accosted by several reporters as we approached the white limo Lara had insisted we arrive in. 

“Mr. Dresden, if you loved this Murphy so much how is it you’re getting married to Ms. Raith in just a couple of weeks?” shouted one woman holding out a recorder of some kind. More fool she.

“May I, Harry dear?” Lara asked gripping my elbow hard enough to bruise.

I nodded.

“Yes, he still loves Ms. Murphy. He always will. But she is not _all_ he lost that night.”

“My brother Thomas, Harry’s dear friend who is as a brother to him, lies in a persistent vegetative state from injuries engendered from the conflict. Thomas’ pregnant fiancé disappeared that night. We do not know if Justine survives or if she was safely delivered of my niece or nephew. We share those losses in common.'"

“We have known each other for many years and we find we now need each other. Why should we not find comfort and courage in each others presence? Why should we not be the best of allies, friends and lovers? Or are you all so cruel as to believe we should bear our sorrows alone?”

“Ms. Raith- Ms. Raith-“ called out the chorus.

“And just in case you were wondering; my sisters and I fought in the Battle as well.” 

By the time she’d said that the rest of us were in the car. She slid gracefully into the seat and closed the door with a resounding slam as we pulled away from the curb. I could get used to having her fight some of my more mortal battles for me. She did it well.

Apparently there was some grainy film on the news that night. The cameras were far enough away to capture the images, though not very clearly and the sound, though of poor quality, captured my words. The images were captioned, “Wizard of Chicago, Harry Dresden”. That’s nice. Too bad being Wizard of Chicago isn’t a paid position, ‘cause it’s kind of hard to make a living as a PI without a little anonymity. Still I guess I can get Lara to put me on the payroll in some figurehead capacity. It’s only fair as often as I have to play window dressing. Yeah, “I’m just a gigilo..”

The Tribune reported that it took ten minutes for the applause to die down after we left.

What really put a smile on my face though? The interview with Randy after the dedication that also appeared in the Tribune. There was a large picture of him. He was toting a cute little girl in one of those backpack type kid carriers. He was smiling. He’d told how his daughter’s birthday was the day before. I was very glad he’d survived, that his baby girl had survived and was thriving. That’s what he and I had fought for. That’s what Karrin died for. I knew she’d have cooed over that baby girl and that we’d have shared a conspiratorial glance. She’d always said she’d defend and protect the citizens of Chicago until her dying breath. And she did.


End file.
